


self pity is a state of mind

by obiwans



Category: Marvel (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Almost Crack, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Other, This is entirely messed up timeline wise think original x men comics kinda, also this is a GEN FIC i know it's listed emma/hank but it's a brotp, also yeah, bros, but not really, emma frost centric, genfic, just nod and accept that the timeline for the x men is too complicated for me to get right, kinda emotional if you love emma frost as much as i do, ridiculous friendship, with mentions of bobby/rogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 02:58:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2531543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obiwans/pseuds/obiwans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hank asked her after a few months if there was anyone there she’d made friends with. She just fixed him with an incredulous look--it was easier than admitting she didn't know because she’d never had real, proper friends before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	self pity is a state of mind

**Author's Note:**

> i just REALLY love emma frost and hank mccoy, and in my head they are the unlikely best friends that bobody but them quite get.  
> so, this was written in a haze of coffee and intense emma frost emotions because i actually love her way more than i should. @donedehaan dane-dehaan.tumblr.com/ aimee, i owe you the world for your patience in correcting stupid grammar errors on this so you're really the best ever i swear to god, queen beta.  
> enjoy, i don't own x men sadly or emma frost would be the main character in everything

Hank Mccoy is too smart to dislike Emma Frost. Too smart to be fooled by her wicked sharp remarks and icy tone that have left most with the impression that she was evil. All Hank can see is the defense mechanism of wanting to appear as the person she feels she is. The person she hates. Truly, there’s nobody on the planet who’s able to fathom a hatred stronger or more destructive than the hatred Emma Frost reserves for herself, and herself alone. He sees this, but he doesn’t like her because he pities her--neither does he like her because he wants her to feel better. He likes her because she’s smart; because she’s funny even if her humour isn’t largely shared by most people. Hank likes Emma because even through all the bitterness and resigned self-loathing, she still wants to be good. Is good, even--when she allows herself to be.  
Emma likes Hank because he can see all of that, and he’s smart. Or has enough self-preservation to not say it. He can take anything she throws at him and probably more with nothing but a patient smile while he waits for her to get it out of her system. She loves him for that, she really does. Though she’ll never admit to it, she thinks he must know, because he’ll do it whenever she needs him to. She likes being around him, even if he appears as an awkward science nerd to almost anyone. He’s actually very charming. She finds his oddities endearing despite her best efforts to hate it. It’s easy to find herself relaxed around him in ways she isn’t around many others, relaxed enough to let her carefully defensive guard slip.  
———————————————-  
The first time they spoke was on Emma’s first night at Xavier’s. She didn’t want to make friends just yet; she wasn’t quite ready to face her new team that she’d been holding in cells only a few weeks ago. The only people who’d been pleasant that evening were Xavier and Bobby Drake, who were disconcertingly forgiving with the whole ordeal. After unpacking and being told that she wasn’t actually a part of the faculty yet and just a visitor, she wandered off to the quietest, most undisturbed corner of the mansion, and unexpectedly found Hank’s lab. A snide remark about not being aware of Frankenstein’s status as a mutant and a snort of laughter later, her mind was made up that it would become a routine, only because the man was quiet and was talented in the art of ignoring her presence. She sat primly on one of his worktops and looked haughtily over what he was doing until she was tired enough to go to sleep. That was their routine: rather than any real kind of social interaction, they found company and solitude in each other.  
For the first few weeks, they didn’t speak much aside from snippy comments from Emma and patient explanations of what was happening from Hank. They didn’t really know each other, and at the same time they did. Hank knew that Emma was quieter when she was at her most dangerous, and that the days where she ripped into him were days where he shouldn’t worry. Emma knew when Hank needed either caffeine or sleep since he would bounce his left knee when he was bordering on exhaustion. They learned each other’s ticks and quirks by sheer hours spent together, not through any real form of communication.  
That was when Emma blurted out one evening, after about 3 weeks of spending most of her free time in Hank’s lab: “I don’t even know what I'm doing here. Being an X-Man doesn't really resonate with me.” He didn't know what to say at first> It was one of her quiet days, as she hadn't even bothered to come up with a quip about his fuzziness when she walked into the room.  
He thought about it for a few moments. “I’ve always thought people aren’t as good as what they’ve done--they’re as good as what they’re trying to do.” He looked at her with concern. Even though her expression was unreadable--her posture flawless and her outfit wonderfully draped as ever--he could tell that she was thinking about it.  
So he continued working on his invention--the latest version of a self-cleaning locker that didn’t eat student’s homework. The silence stretched on, and he left Emma to her thoughts. He almost forgot about her presence when she startled him as she got up.  
“Goodnight, Hank,” she said, her voice softer than he’d heard it before.  
“See you tomorrow, Emma,” he replied, offering her a smile.  
On her way out, she placed a hand on his shoulder. If that wasn’t a thank you, then he didn’t know what was.  
——————————————  
When Bobby suspiciously asked if they had some kind of kinky thing going on during a faculty meeting, Emma laughed. She actually laughed. It was the first time any of them had seen her do so, and the room fell silent for a while until Charles spoke up.  
“Are you ready to take on duties beyond administrative yet, Miss Frost?” He asked, as if her laughter meant that she was. She considered it for a moment, looked at Hank, and answered in the affirmative. She wasn’t sure why everyone seemed surprised; it wasn’t actually her plan to sit around doing paperwork and slowly let them all drive her insane. Then again, she hadn’t expected to teach Ethics, either. The ways in which Charles’ mind worked were questionable at the best of times.  
After the meeting, Kitty Pryde glared at her as she talked to Hank, so she didn’t approach them. Instead, she listened to Bobby discuss the course she was going to teach, and nodded dutifully. It wasn’t until he asked her about Hank that she really paid attention to what he was saying.  
“Pardon?” She questioned, her voice sharp and abrupt and probably a little more terrifying than she meant it to be.  
“I just asked if you were actually real friends, or just good at ignoring each other.” Emma wasn’t sure, but the part of her that she’d gotten so good at hiding hoped for the former. In recent years, she didn’t have friends or lovers--she had means to ends. It was hard for her to snap out of that mode when she’d worked so hard to get to where she was now , but somehow Hank had disarmed her.  
“I’m not sure, Drake. We don’t have slumber parties and braid each other’s hair if that’s what you’re asking. And no, neither are we sleeping together before you ask.”  
“Good, because I’m pretty sure that’s beastiality.” He joked, because for some reason thought he was funny.  
“Just because your love life with Rogue is as frigid as your powers doesn’t mean you can judge others,” She responded curtly, and he looked suitably hurt. He left her alone so she could start her lesson plans.  
————————————————-  
Once her teaching began, Hank learned that, brutal methods aside, Emma was a fantastic teacher. He told her that, after a class where the students left slightly shocked. She responded that she was far too much a Frost to be a good anything. He wasn’t sure of what she meant at first. He thought about it so much that he neglected to notice his coffee machine set fire to itself while Emma graded papers in his lab.  
“Henry, your coffee,” she told him, and panic ensued as he put out the flames--panic for him. Emma just sat there with a vague but amused smirk. He sat down again and sighed, and instead of pretending to work, he looked at Emma . She raised an eyebrow in question.  
“What did you mean earlier, when you said that being a Frost means you can’t be a good anything?” He asked, treading carefully. He wasn’t sure when she’d snap.  
A heavy pause, and then:  
“Frosts are great, not good. I’m a great teacher.”  
The difference was important, because being great wasn’t a compliment. The word ‘great’ was spat like it was dirty. She wrote down a book title for him on a post-it note and told him to read it. He did, and he understood. She thought she couldn’t be good and great. According to the book, they were two entirely different attributes of a person and rarely found together. Emma thought that she wasn’t good, and though Hank disagreed he could see why she’d think it.  
The next time he saw her, he told her it was a great book, but it was wrong. The hand on his shoulder as she left the room told him that her eye roll at that comment hadn’t been entirely honest.  
————————————————-  
Hank asked her after a few months if there was anyone there she’d made friends with. She just fixed him with an incredulous look--it was easier than admitting she didn’t know because she’d never had real, proper friends before. Bobby was irritatingly nice, despite her best efforts to alienate him. Logan oddly didn’t hate her and it scared her more than she thought it would . She didn’t know what to do with that. Kitty, she could handle. In fact, she enjoyed fighting Kitty because it was what she’s used to. So, friends? She wasn’t sure.  
Hank had friends, though. Lots of them. He always had time for Emma, because even though he had lots of friends, they tended to leave him alone when he was in his lab. Emma didn’t--it was kind of her space, too. She left her books down there sometimes. But sometimes, one of Hank’s friends was in his lab. Those were times she found someone to be disgustingly cruel to, though she did it for their own good, like setting purposefully unreasonable Danger Room examinations for students and giving them a viciously hard time when their marks were abysmal.  
Hank knew she had jealousy issues, so he made sure to leave her a packet of her favourite earl grey tea in her room as a peace offering, and later ask her whose heart she’d broken since the last time they spoke. The response was always just a smirk.  
—————————————————  
The first and second and all the other times that Emma Frost fights beside the X-Men are all equally as bizarre as each other, but the strangest part is when they arrive home. It was home to her. They all sat together, and drank their own poison. Emma struggled to pick between herbal teas and strong alcohol. Hank knew that alcohol and drugs reminded her too much of the Hellfire Club to have much of a place in her life, so he pushed her a tea bag before she could make a bad decision. It’s the silent things like that which are most disconcerting. She remembered this one evening after fighting an invasion of alien nanobots away from the school and leaving the rest for the Avengers to clear up.  
She and Kitty didn’t bicker, for once. It was probably because Logan had placed himself strategically between them. There was a sense of belonging she hadn’t felt before, even though she’d been there over a year. It was that moment where she considered that maybe Hank was right. Maybe she could be good. Then of course she had to look across the room to Jean Grey, the light of everyone’s worlds, and she felt stupid for ever considering it. She could pretend, but she’d never really be like them.  
“I knew I never liked bugs,” she stated, before taking a sip of her tea and people laughed.  
“Nice icebreaker, Frost.” Bobby told her with a grin. She still didn’t understand why he was allowed to hang around with the Professors so much, but it wasnt like the school was conventional in any way. He and Kitty, they were as much X-Men as the rest of the team despite their age--Kitty probably more so.  
“Stop trying to make ice puns funny. It’s not going to happen,” Kitty teased lightly.  
“You know, Emma. They weren’t actually bugs, they wer-”  
“I don’t care, Scott.”  
They bickered like children afterwards, but they knew in they end they’d all fight for each other to the death.  
Emma was a part of it. She wouldn’t feel that it was real if it wasn’t for Hank elbowing her and telling her he captured a few of the bots they were fighting to experiment on, and asking if she wanted to keep him company later.


End file.
